


The Heart of the Matter

by Donatellosgirl36



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family, Gen, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donatellosgirl36/pseuds/Donatellosgirl36
Summary: Splinter wishes he could give his sons a proper Christmas. But they remind him he has already given the greatest gift of all, by returning it to him. A turtle-tot Christmas fic. Any universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own TMNT. It would be a really nice Christmas present though… *wink, wink*
> 
> A/N: The turtles are five here and Hoteiosho is Japan’s version of Santa Clause. (Well, he’s a god, but he’s like Santa. *sigh, shrug* Just google it…)

Splinter ducked as someone passed the alley he was in. He watched as a couple with two young children walked by. “Daddy! I want the Barbie dream house for Christmas!” The curly-haired little girl squealed petulantly.

“And I want the giant Transformer! You know, the one that’s two feet tall!” The boy spouted in just as snotty of a tone.

Their father laughed. “We’ll see. We’ll see.”

Splinter frowned as they disappeared from view. He looked down at the tattered blanket he’d scavenged and the broken toy plane. He could recall a time not so long ago, when he walked in the open as the couple did and bought presents for people he’d never see again. Now, he was forced to live off the waste of that very world. Glancing at the manhole a few feet away, he felt guilt swell inside him. Christmas was something he’d celebrated in Japan, but it never held any true importance to him, except it meant he could spend some time with Shen. He’d learned the westernize tradition of spending time with family, large meals and spoiling of children once he’d moved to New York. It was a time for giving gifts and sharing one’s love.

His sons would never be able to experience this holiday as the other children in the world did. He could never walk into a store and buy a toy or even a decent meal.  The blanket felt thin in his hands, worn and torn.  It was blue and fuzzy.  _Not a toy, I’m afraid. But perhaps Leonardo will not mind._ He planned on stitching the rip when he got home, once his sons were asleep.

In his other hand was the broken plane. One wing, though still attached, hung loosely.  He would repair it and he knew Michelangelo would be thrilled with it. The propeller still worked and the small wheels still rolled. And yet, Splinter felt he was doing his children a disservice. They deserved more than these broken and battered gifts. His sons were precious and unique, and had filled his life with joy. He wished he could do the same for them.

Sighing heavily, he abandoned the dumpster he’d been digging through and headed home. As he traversed the labyrinth of tunnels on his way, he felt the great sadness weigh on him again. He frowned at the blue blanket. _I wish that I could provide what others take for granted – a clean blanket, warm fresh food, new toys…. I feel sometimes that I fail them as a father._

As he neared his burrow, he brushed away a single tear, shed for his sons’ lost childhood.

A small voice pierced the edge of his hearing. “He’s coming!”

Splinter felt a faint smile touch his lips. His youngest son sounded excited. What would he think, if he knew his present came from a dumpster?

“Hurry, hide it!” Another small voice hissed, that of his eldest. Leonardo would likely act as though he loved his “new” blanket, but would secretly hide his disappointment. Splinter paused to tuck the two items into his stained duffle bag. He would have to make it up to him later.

“We’re tryin’ to hurry!” Raphael’s slightly rough tone was clearer now as he drew near the door. Again, he paused as he heard shuffling inside. He waited patiently, not wanting to spoil whatever they thought they were up to.

After a moment, he entered to find his sons laying around the small chamber in various places, obviously pretending to be busy doing one thing or another. He forced a bright smile for them. “I am home, my sons.”

“Sensei!” Mikey squealed, running forward to latch onto his father’s leg.

Splinter patted him on the head. “I trust you have all been good while I was away.”

“Yes!” The four tiny turtles chimed at once.

Splinter smiled. “Good. Now, clean up. I have brought us some food.”

Mikey’s eyes sparkled. “Yay! I’m hungry!”

“You’re always hungry.” Raph piped.

“So are you!” Donnie quickly pointed out. Their words left an even deeper ache in Splinter’s heart. There was never enough food, and the blankets and rugs he’d gathered barely kept them warm on the cold winter nights. Sometimes he would have to go back out after his little ones slept to find something -anything- to fill his own empty belly.

“Now, now. Do not fight. Hoteiosho will see.” The four quickly quieted. He raised a long finger. “You must be good, if you want him to bring you a gift.”

“We’ll be good! I promise!” Leo glanced at his brothers. “Right guys?”

Mikey tugged at his father’s robes. “I’ve been really good this year, Master. Do you think Hoteiosho will bring me something special this year?”

Splinter smiled tolerantly at the five-year-old. “I’m sure he will. Now clean up, so we may eat.”

Mikey grinned. “Okay!” He turned to his brothers. “Raphie, help me with the water.”

“You’re such a baby.” Raphael complained, but he got up nonetheless and walked to the wall with his smallest brother. With a small grunt, he turned the large round handle allowing the water to sputter into the bucket beneath it. Leonardo and Donatello quickly joined them and a small splashing war ensued.

 _Apparently, boys will be boys no matter if they are human or mutant turtles._ Splinter hid his amusement at the thought as he stepped into the only other room of his small burrow. Here is where he had set up a small hotplate, which sputtered when it came to life. He’d scavenged it, hoping it that it would work once he got it home. It had not, but surprisingly when he’d returned home the following night it had. He hadn’t bothered to ask how, but he suspected Donatello might have had a hand in it. He’d insisted Splinter try it again when he’d started to prepare their meal. When it had worked, Splinter had glanced back at his son to see a small blush dust his green cheeks. The memory warmed the rat’s heart.

Now, he set about scrapping the leavings from a can of beans and some rice from a to-go container. He cut away the rotten portion of a bell pepper and two tomatoes. Meat was the most difficult thing to come by, but he’d spotted a man carrying out the husk of a turkey left from their Christmas Eve meal. When the man had gone back into his home, he’d pounced on the dumpster rescuing the scraps before any other forager might find them. The bird had still been warm and a great deal of it still remained. Luckily the man had thrown it out pan and all, so it was easy to bring home. Splinter tore the meat from the bones and placed it along with all the other items on the hotplate.

Mikey and Raph pushed aside the small blanket covering the door and entered. Splinter eyed them. “Did you wash?” Both turtles lifted their hands to reveal clean palms. “Good, where are your brothers?”

“Still washin’.” Raph provided with averted eyes. Splinter frowned and started to stand. Raph’s eyes grew round. “Uh, they’ll be done in just a minute, Sensei.” But their father was already headed back into the other room.

“Ow!”

“Just stay still, Donnie!”

“But, Leo, that hurts!”

“Well, we got to get it off and you got it all over the place.”

The two stopped bickering as Splinter’s shadow loomed over them, where they were hunched over the bucket of water. Leo held a hard wire brush in one hand and his brother’s hand in the other. “Uh, Sensei…” Leo blinked large blue eyes up at him.

But Splinter’s gaze was fixed on Donnie’s hands. “What do you have all over your hands, Donatello?”

Don frowned, his bottom lip poking out just a bit. For a moment, Splinter thought he might cry. But the turtle pressed them together and slowly answered. “Glue.”

“Glue?” He frowned in disapproval. They had all been told not to use the glue unless supervised by him. His frown deepened as another thought came to him. He was going to use the glue to fix Michelangelo’s plane. “Where is the glue?”

Leo dropped the brush and ran across the space to pull it from beneath some blankets in the corner. “Here it is, Sensei.” He handed it over with a frown of his own. Splinter sighed, most of glue was gone. He wasn’t even certain there was enough to fix the plane now. Leo took his heavy sigh as anger. “Don’t be mad at Donnie. He was fixing something for me.”

Splinter looked at him a bit surprised. “I am not angry, Leonardo. Join your brothers in the other room.”

Leo fidgeted, glanced at Donnie and then hurried off as told. Splinter gave another heavy sigh as he knelt beside Donatello and picked up a wash cloth. The wire brush Leonardo had been using was far too rough. He remained silent as he lathered the cloth and began to scrub his son’s hands. There was a little sniffle and he looked up at Donatello. “I’m sorry, Master Splinter. I know you said not to, but-“

Splinter paused, raising a hand to his son’s cheek. “It is alright, Donatello. As I told your brother, I am not angry. But I am disappointed. I set rules for certain reasons – reasons I cannot always explain to you. So, I expect for those rules to be followed.” He brushed away a tear that trickled down his son’s cheek.

Donnie looked down at his now clean hands. “I’m sorry.”

Splinter drew him into an embrace. “Apology accepted. Now, let us go eat.”

Donnie smiled a bit and nodded, following his father into the next room. The four turtles ate their meal happily, praising their father for his great find. There was enough this night that his little family went to bed with full stomachs. The four yawned and hummed happily as he tucked them in. Within moments they were all asleep and Splinter slipped back into his makeshift kitchen with the remains of the glue.

Using a knife, he cut open the plastic bottle with hopes there would be enough. To his great relief there was. He used the blade to scrape out the glue and spread it on the plane’s damaged wing. After he was done, he cleaned the whole thing with a cloth and turned his attention to the blanket. Threading a needle was difficult in the dim light from the candles. But he’d managed to learn a lot of skills in the past few years that he never would have, if he’d still lived above.

After the blanket was sewn and washed. He hung it up on a pipe that carried steam. It would not take long for it to dry. While it did, he gathered the other two gifts he’d hidden away. A book for Donatello, nearly pristine with only a small stain on the back cover. A set of Legos he’d found in a toy store’s dumpster that someone had returned. The box was battered and it appeared as though not all the blocks were present. He wrapped them each in old rags and checked the blanket which was already dry.  He wrapped it as well, then carried them into the other room. He laid each beneath the branch his sons had proudly declared, “The best Christmas tree ever!” It was small, but they had decorated it with drawings on strings and he’d even made a few origami cranes for luck.

As he looked at the four meager gifts, he felt the guilt build in his chest again. _So much for luck._ With another heavy sigh, he climbed into the center of their communal bed. The four small turtles each shifted close to him, absorbing his body heat. It was another painful reminder that he could not even provide heat for them. _I promise one day, I will be able to provide all that you need, my children._

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Leo woke first. He sat up and looked around at their home. He cheered inwardly at the sight of four wrapped presents beneath their little tree. It was better than the one they’d made from old newspaper the year before. He reached out and shook Raph’s shoulder where he lay next to him, half buried under one of Splinter’s legs. “Raph, wake up!” He hissed, trying not to wake everyone else.

Slowly, Raphael opened his eyes. His first instinct was to shove his brother away, but then he remembered what day it was. He lifted his head and scanned the room. He frowned at the sight of four presents beneath their tree. Slowly he extracted himself from their father and climbed out of the bed. Leo followed him to the tree.

“Why is there still only four?”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t know, we wrote Hoteiosho and told him he keeps forgetting Splinter’s present.”

“Maybe he didn’t understand it. It was in English.” Raph folded his arms. “I told you we shoulda wrote it in Japanese.”

“Father hasn’t taught us enough Japanese to write in it yet.” Leo frowned. “Well, at least we have a backup this time.” He trotted over to one of the corners and lifted the edge of the rug. Glancing at the still sleeping trio, he hurried back. “We still have to wrap it in something.”

Raph nodded and ran to where they kept the rags Splinter often brought home. “I think this one is big enough.” The two wrapped up their gift and tucked it beneath the tree as well. Together they scurried back into bed.

Their jostling woke Mikey, who rubbed at his eyes. “Mmm, what’s going on?” Then his eyes shot wide. “It’s Christmas!” He immediately proceeded to jump up and down on their makeshift bed. “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Splinter grunted as the youngster fell on him. He groaned and opened his eyes. “Michelangelo.” He warned in too groggy of a voice to hold any true threat.

Mikey stopped bouncing. “Sorry, Master Splinter, but it’s Christmas!” He pointed at the little tree and the gifts. “Hoteiosho left us presents! Can we open them now!”

Splinter couldn’t help but be amused by his youngest son’s enthusiasm. “Yes, you may.”

As the four turtle tots climbed from the bed, Donnie glanced at the gifts and then at his eldest brother. Leo gave a slight shake of his head, making Don frown momentarily. But he changed his expression quickly as not to be noticed by their father. Mikey pulled at his arm. “Which one is mine, Donnie?” He started to tell Mikey that he knew how to spell his own name, but he was interrupted by Leo.

“Sensei, could you tell us which one belongs to who?”

With a small smile, Splinter moved from the mound of blankets they used as a bed to the small tree that was the same size as his young sons. “Very well, who shall be first?”

“Me! Me!” Mikey jumped up and down in place, a hand raised over his head.

Raph rolled his eyes. “Please give Mikey his first or he’ll keep whining.”

Splinter chuckled. “Patience, Michelangelo.” He waited for the turtle to stop bouncing before he lifted the plane wrapped in rags.

“Yay!” Mikey tugged at the fabric until it fell free. He squealed in excitement. “An airplane!” He promptly started running around the room pretending to divebomb his brothers.

“This one is yours, Donatello.” Splinter smiled as he handed Donnie his present.

The young genius grinned broadly at the book. He was already reading at a third grade level. “The Hobbit.” He read the title out loud. He’d never heard of it, but he was always glad to get a new book. “Wow! This is great!”

“Raphael, this one is yours.” Splinter handed him the gift, which he quickly opened despite trying to hide his excitement.

“Oh boy, blocks!” Raph found a place on the floor to dump them out and begin building of a skyscraper.

“And you, Leonardo.” Splinter forced a smile as his eldest eagerly took the gift and unwrapped it.

The young turtle’s expression was hard to read as he investigated the blue blanket and the large L that had been sewn on it to cover the rip in the fabric. Finally, he smiled. His eyes were bright when he met his father’s. “Hoteiosho must know it can get really cold down here sometimes. He wanted to make sure we were all warm.”

Splinter felt the prickle of tears at the back of his eyes. His son was so young and yet he already had a noble spirit. “Yes, my son, he must have known.” He allowed his gaze to shift around the room to his other children, each happily enjoying their scavenged gifts. Not once had his sons ever complained about anything he’d given them and very rarely had they ever squabbled over them. He felt the ache of guilt in his heart once more.

“Master Splinter, there’s another present over there.” Leo pointed behind the old rat.

Splinter turned to look at the place he pointed at with curiosity, while the brothers grew still and quiet. “What is this?” He queried as he lifted the small item wrapped in another rag.

“Open it, Sensei.” Raph prompted as he and the others came back to stand near Leo.

Slowly and with great care, Splinter removed the rag. He stared at the item for a long moment. It was a picture frame made from popsicle sticks with a drawing of their little family in the center. His ears dropped and he looked up questioning at his sons.

“We tried to get Hoteiosho to bring you a present too, Sensei.” Leo explained. “But I guess he forgot again.”

“Yeah, you’re always good! You feed us and teach us and all sorts of stuff.” Mikey provided. “He should bring you one too!”

“But since he didn’t, we made you one.” Donnie said by way of further explanation.

“It was Leo’s idea, but I found all the popsicle sticks.” Raph elbowed his brother playfully.

“I drew the picture!” Mikey pronounced proudly.

“And Donnie and I put it together.” Leo smiled at his brothers. “We all helped.” He turned his gaze back to Splinter. “Do you like it, Father?”

A lump grew in Splinter’s throat and the tears brimmed his eyes. “I love it, my sons.” He opened his arms and they all rushed forward, burying themselves in his warm fur and embrace. “Thank you, I will cherish it always. I love you all.”

“We love you too!” They each chimed in tiny voices that sank down into his soul, crushing the guilt and sadness, and reminding him that no matter what the most precious gift that could be given or received was love.


End file.
